


Change

by facingthenorthwind (spacegandalf)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegandalf/pseuds/facingthenorthwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where's the new world that would rise up after the war? Where's the idealistic views we all had of a post-Voldemort Great Britain? Why do I still sit here, sipping an almost empty glass just to see you smile? Does anything ever change?</p><p>Her smile is nicer than yours; but yours is familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change

You had a large, purple bruise on your cheek; I had a cut above my right eye. You were still managing a smile; I would have been frowning, but it aggravated the cut. You were you; I was me.

Later, we would refer to it as the day before the beginning of the Room of Requirement Retreat. That day, it was just another day of survival. We were in the corridor, walking back from Transfiguration. Your blonde hair was slightly messy and there were bags under your eyes, as if you hadn't been sleeping. Then again, none of us had been sleeping.

I would call it a comfortable silence, but it wasn't. It was tense and fearful, though we were comfortable enough in each other's company. Under the reign of Lord Voldemort, nothing was comfortable. "Hannah," I began, making myself sound as firm and self-assured as I could. That was who I was: firm and self-assured.

"Yes, Ernie?" you replied, putting a little more effort into your smile. I dared to hope.

"I..uh, look, I fancy you. I don't know if it's inappropriate for the events around us, but there's no use putting everything on hold. Then they'd have won, wouldn't they? I fancy you, and if we were still allowed outside the castle I would ask you on a date, but I can't." There, I'd said it. You blushed, colour rising in your cheeks to make you even prettier than you already were. Except you weren't smiling any more, and so I stopped hoping.

"Ernie..." You looked at me imploringly, and I opened my mouth to speak. Rushing on before I could say a word, you said, "Ernie, I can't. I'm so sorry...I like... I like someone else." You looked so sad that I couldn't form a response; you didn't want to cause me pain. I understood that.

"Oh, err...right. Well then, that's...that's settled. Should we pretend this never happened?" It was the only solution I could think of - I certainly couldn't lose you completely.

"If things were different, Ernie--" you said, but I shook my head. "Alright, then. Let's forget it."

Neither of us did. I knew you; once we were stuck in the Room of Requirement, I could tell who you fancied. You never made a move, though, and neither did he. I didn't interfere, but I watched - you can't blame me for that.

***

The war is over now. It's been four years - but everything is still the same. It still rains. It's still cold. The only change is the name of who's in charge. Where's the paradise we all envisioned? Where's the equality and the freedom? Nothing's changed. People have died, and that's it.

My cloak doesn't keep out the biting rain as the wind buffets it against me. A soggy newspaper gets caught around my feet as I walk up to your pub, and I shake it off. I suppose it's not really your pub - you just work there. To me it is; you're the one behind the counter, flashing your smile to every customer who asks for a drink.

To the best of my knowledge, you still haven't told Neville Longbottom you fancy him. I can see he fancies you, though - he doesn't need to come into the Leaky as often as he does. He sits in the corner and watches you move between the tables. Do you see it? I do.

I do much the same, really. I order a drink so I can see you smile, and then I sit at a table long after my glass is empty. I can't help it. Today, though, I just smile at you and move through. Today will be different. You smile back and for a moment, I think I could have just one drink. Just one drink so I could--

I walk through to the courtyard, forcing myself not to look back as I enter Diagon Alley. I can't keep doing this; I won't. I need to take some money out from Gringotts and get a new quill and some owl treats, and then I will go straight through the pub again. I won't order a drink, not even to see your smile.

The errands don't last long enough. I need to stay here so I won't have a reason to go back. I make up things to do, like go to the second-hand robe shop and admire the horrific creations in velvet and lace. I'm walking back towards the pub at last when I see her. She's holding the _Prophet_ , waving it and shouting. As she sees me looking, she smiles and gestures with her paper. And her smile is nicer than yours. I didn't think that could happen, but it has.

So I smile back. I walk over and pay for a paper, though one is already sitting on the table at home. It's an excuse to talk to her. She's wearing yellow shoes, too. You had a pair of yellow shoes once. Well, you made them yellow as a joke - that counts, doesn't it?

She's the opposite of you, you know. She has dark hair. She's thinner, and has a sharp nose instead of a round one.

The biggest difference is that she is there now, but tomorrow she might not be. I don't know her, and I can't get to know her now. She is unfamiliarity; you are everything I know. She is new; you are timeless.

I walk back, paper in hand, to the Leaky. I order a drink and sit down, watching you as I sip my drink slowly.

Nothing changes.


End file.
